Broken Wings
by KateAncharn
Summary: Ace knew of many people cruel enough to break a dove's wings. Smoker knows too few people who'd take the time to help a broken dove learn to fly. A/N: Going in for a re-write.
1. Chapter 1

AN: Chapter has been edited and fixed up a fair bit, thanks to TheCorpseGuarden! Enjoy and please do review!

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Everything was pain, now: pain, loss, and fear. There was pain from the harsh hands making greedy, lecherous grabs at his body until they were satisfied. Loss... he could not think of one thing that was not stolen or stripped from him, now. And fear, would they be even worse this time? Would those tiny scraps of nourishment or the faint gasps of air finally be removed so that his misery would end? He honestly didn't fear death, anymore; his only fear was living through this repugnant hell.

Seastone and iron, the textures so familiar and once faintly comforting to him, and now they brought the worst of each emotion into his life. Could he even call this existence life? No. This was not life. This was only suffering. His mind twitched while his body could not; they were back. He could hear them, _feel_ them. Worst yet, they already had their hands on their favorite 'device' to use on him: A cold, hard, unforgiving thing that made his skin crawl at just the thought of it. He could feel its tip circling slowly, snickers and lewd calls filling his head. His voice caught on the gag; they had jammed it inside like always, with no care except causing as much pain as they could. Stiff, cold metal and the draining throb of the sea was all he knew, now. It would be all he would know until the end of his wretched days if these people had any say in his future.

Tears came because what hope he had begun with was long gone. Only pain, betrayal, and humiliation persisted as he cried and screamed and whimpered, knowing that they would not stop - they would_ never _stop - but it was all he could do now, anyways. The cuffs had long since made his hands and feet numb. Bruises and cuts marked his entire body from his constant struggle with his predators. He had learned very early on that he could not lift a finger to them. There was no point. What else could he do but lay there and grit his teeth? A sleek blindfold draped tightly against his head was the only comfort he had left. He could not see their faces, know their identities, see what he had been turned into, or see their triumph when he gave in; a small mercy.

"What a slut you are," one of the many voices chuckled. One of the voices jerked his head back by the hair and groped any piece of flesh that was not his own. "Stop that sniveling, it doesn't suit your pretty face… Or do we need to give you a reason to? I bet you'd like that."

"Naw," another man sneered, turning their captive's head with a harsh yank. "He looks hungry." A choir of agreement filled his aching ears. "You're just dying to swallow all of us, huh? You're such a eager fucking whore." The gag was gone in a flash and something else was quick to take its place, content to jam itself so far down his throat that his airways were closed off. He struggled and whimpered until he was so close to passing out, but he could not bring his body to move. He kept thinking that he was going to die a pitiful death. They would find him, choked to death with evidence of one of _them_ down his throat.

Suddenly, he could breathe again. Suddenly, the thing in his mouth had been pulled back just enough so that he could suck in a fresh breath of air. It started moving again quickly, giving him no time to rest, using his mouth as its own personal sheath and forcing him with a silent threat to play along.

His tears were hot and fast, now, tiny sobs muffled by the callous _object_ pounding his throat harshly. He could only whimper as the abuse continued. The metal shaft was twisted and jerked around inside of him like they were trying to tear him apart. All he could do was arch and cry out around the intrusions, their laughter ringing in his ears.

Finally, the _thing_ shoving into his mouth pulled out, but he knew what was coming next. Something hot and sticky and utterly disgusting sprayed across his face, mixing with the tears and saliva smeared on it, already. He panted, greedily filling his lungs with air while he still could. The hand fisted in his hair loosened before leaving, a low, sinister chuckle filling the thick, sweaty air.

"Now you look like a real whore... Why don't you take a look at yourself?!" It was fast, the dark fabric fluttering away before he could spur a noise from his throat. His eyes followed its trail as it was tossed aside, far out of his already limited reach. He could see. He could see all the leering, perverted eyes and the twisted faces and the sticky white drops clinging to his eyelashes and dribbling down to drop onto the floor.

No... This was the last straw! They had their fun, beating and touching and _forcing_ him to be theirs. But they had never made him watch, before. Before, he had been mercifully blinded. The darkness had granted him a peaceful bliss; he could tune into the depths of his mind and forget – even if it was just for a few seconds – about what they were doing to him. They had ripped that tiny piece of solitude away from him, just as they had with his innocence and everything else their filthy hands could reach. He cast a quick glance at the blindfold laying absently in the corner before a hand yanked him forward by his seastone collar.

Before he could stop himself, he slammed his head forward, head-butting the man kneeling coyly in front of him. The captive growled lowly, like a crazed, abused animal. Despite the pain, a sick feeling of satisfaction bubbled up as he saw blood drip from the man's nose as he stumbled backwards. A hand buried itself in his thick hair and yanked his head back, the assaulter delighting in the cry of pain his actions pulled from their captive's throat. The broken man was smacked across the face by another tormentor standing in front of him.

"Causing us trouble, bitch?" he grunted. "We'll fix that. We've done it plenty of times before..." The sharp sting was nothing compared to the other blows he'd experienced, but the edge to the man's voice... Panic was all his body could process as he was shoved onto his back and his legs were pried wide open, exposing him and all his vile glory to their sickening desires. The feral look glistening in their eyes told him well enough that his fear had leaked onto his face. There was no time to draw the horror back inside and bury it behind a stoic facade as the metal shaft was roughly removed, only to be replaced by one of the hungry-looking men. The captive bucked and thrashed, but he was held down with ease, firm hands steadying his body. He was forced to watch as the fly was undone and the next torment for the night was displayed and prepared, rubbed against him until it felt harder than the metal shaft and far, far stickier.

With one hard thrust, he was inside.

A scream clawed its way out of his dry throat as the white hot agony began without a second to get used to the girth. The pace was fast and hard, his shoulders driven into the hard floor with each movement. His eyes were scrunched shut, tears squeezing out almost as quickly as the sweat on his brow. He kept screaming, even when his lungs felt like they would burst from uttering another noise and the soreness of his jaw made it difficult to take the cold, musky air in. The pain was unbearable, like he was being skewered by a whole tree, and he was helpless to make it stop. The tormentor's lips crashed against his own, and suddenly he felt a tongue stirring their saliva together sloppily. The tongue was shoved down his throat, making him want to vomit up the tiny bit of bile remaining inside his stomach.

_'Kami, please! I don't care how, make it stop!'_ his mind begged. As usual, it did not look like anyone was going to answer. "S-stop... p-ple-ease... s-sto-op..." he managed to grind from between his teeth, his voice finally giving out.

"You heard him- Stop!" a new voice seemed to materialize a few feet away. It was a familiar, confident one, a voice whose owner's name danced at the tip of his mental tongue as he tried to open his eyes and forget his current predicament enough to take an actual look. "He was even nice enough to say 'please'." Fire Fist Ace stood in his usual cocky stance, looking down at the horrendous act before him. There was mild anger flickering in his eyes. The victim met his wandering orbs for only a split second before the pain had them screwed shut, again.

_'When I said, "I don't care how," I didn't mean send __**him**__!' _he internally lamented. He could almost feel the situation getting worse. He was being... humiliated in front of a pirate. Worse yet, a pirate who knew who he was and was high enough in the criminal community to do serious damage. The assaulter did not seem quite as dazed. With a cruel grin, he gave another powerful thrust, earning a choked whimper and a low growl.

"I said **stop**!" Ace shouted, an aura of flame flooding through the room. The air was filled with smoke and the smell of burning flesh, shouts of agony coming from all but one mouth. The fire danced around him harmlessly, but it still stole his breath as it sucked up the air to fuel itself and seemed to snap the binds; only his collar remained. The fire was strong, but even it was powerless against seastone.

Strong arms came out of nowhere, scooping up his crumpled body, and the still running figure of the pirate zipped through the doorway and out of the building. The coolness of the air running over his naked form was almost countered by the heat still rolling off Ace's skin as he ran. The man in his arms could only cough and catch his breath as his body tried to kill itself, pain coursing through each of his nerves. The fire user made good time, reaching the outskirts on the opposite side of town before he slowed.

"Stupid Marine getting yourself into stupid situations..." Ace seemed to grunt. "Not even going to ask what they were doing to you, Smoker." Even with the layers of ground in grime, the man's pale skin and pure white hair were dead giveaways, and even a blockhead would have been able to connect the dots. The Marine remained silent, his eyes not leaving the patch of sun kissed skin laying in front of them as he tried to find his voice, again. In truth, he was unsure whether it was the fire, the shock, or the torture that made it so difficult to find, again; the attempts continued for a few minutes, the Commodore hoping that they had not silenced him for good.

He had been saved from another long series of forced touches and penetrations... by a pirate. A 'D', but still very much a pirate.

"P-put me d-dow-wn..." he muttered, closing his eyes tightly as if that could block out who had just killed the bastards that had... hurt him and replace him with someone less criminal. Ace humored him long enough for Smoker to try and support his own weight on his now scrawny legs. He screamed, his throat aching even more than the rest of his body combined, and fell back against the fire user's chest. Tears squeezed out of his eyes against his will, but Ace either did not notice or was being civil enough not to kick him while he was down. A strong arm wrapped around his back, high enough to be away from the more tender areas, and he was steadied.

"It may be a little while before you're ready for that," Ace hummed, the sound rumbling through his chest and against the thin body laying against him. Smoker did not listen, and once he could get air back in his own lungs without sounding like a fish out of water, he was trying again. Needless to say, the pirate flinched as this attempt had the Marine falling flat on his face, his legs crumpled under him like twigs.

Ace sighed gently. He should have known better then to think he'd be able to run in, save the dolt, and leave. Smoker was a mess, unshed tears still in his puffy, bloodshot eyes, fear living in every movement of his body as he struggled to hold back the sounds of pain that they caused. The Marine was completely helpless. Even if he took off that collar still clamped viciously around his neck, giving him back his Devil Fruit powers, Smoker would still be a weak, emotionally damaged mess.

"I don't plan on dumping someone who needs help in the middle of nowhere," the pirate grunted, sitting by the fallen man. The space between their bodies and the younger man's relaxed posture was subconsciously soothing, and Smoker let out a breath he had not realized he had been holding. Ace observed him closer. Smoker's skin looked almost transparent in the faint moonlight peeking over the horizon. Ugly bruises painted his body like a rag-tag quilt of scraps, and his eyes... They were dull and lost, like an empty shell just barely clinging to life. His body was thin; there was nothing left of his once chiseled physique in the skin-and-bone creature huddled in front of him. This was the broken husk of one of the last decent men in the Navy.

_ 'Marine or not, I can't just leave him like this. He won't survive the night without me.'_ He took a quick catalog of the injuries he could see; a dislocated jaw, almost dislocated shoulders, emaciated body, cuts, bruises... Ace didn't let his eyes stay too long on the area he knew hurt the most.

"C'mon, let's get you cleaned up." The dried seed, blood, and dirt did not look like it would be best to leave on Smoker's body, especially if he wanted to keep from dealing with flashbacks. The smoke-user made as if to protest, but Ace would have none of it, "Look, you can't even sit up on your own. What makes you think you're going to be able to do anything without help right now?" The Marine looked stunned, almost like another blow had been inflicted upon his sunken, neglected stomach.

"C-Colla-ar..." he finally muttered, raising an ethereal hand to trace along the rough seastone. It was digging harshly into his skin, making breathing even more of a bother, and sapping the minute energy left in the smoke user's form. "...O-O-Off…" It was almost a whisper; a plead for help he would have never asked for, had he been the Marine he used to be. The White Hunter certainly would have never begged for the small taste of comfort the presence in his smoke core gave.

Ace eyed the thing, noting the locks and hinges were made with iron, and welded closed with the same material. He knew well enough what the Marine was going through, far more intimately then he'd enjoy admitting. With a soft sigh, he nodded. "Gimme a second..." the fire user hummed, digging through his pockets for a moment before pulling out a pair of gloves.

Slowly, as to keep Smoker from startling, he slid the gloves on and closed the distance between them, carefully allowing his now protected hands to wrap around the collar. Smoker winced as his head was lightly turned with this hold, the pirate looking over the area for any problems. With a simultaneous flick of his wrists, the lock and hinge shattered; the seastone fell away in two hefty chunks. The Marine sucked in a deep breath to strangle the noise of pain as air fully hit the ring of damaged skin, gasping as the choking sensation of the sea left after so many weeks.

A wave of smoke rolled through his body, from the tips of his toes to the ends of his hairs, and he relaxed into it. He became nothing but the swirling ash and smoke that he'd longed to feel, again. It did not last for long, the weightlessness of his ethereal form; the fire swirling around him gently pressed him inwards. His stamina was wasted; Smoker could only let himself sink back down, nestled against the vibrant flames that anchored him. The smoke shifted back to flesh, fire following suit before he could be burned. Ace's arms were firm around him, cradling him carefully as the world spun wildly. The fire user arranged them both cautiously, sitting neatly with his arms looped around the Marine's shoulders, his legs making a seat for his battered hips, and setting a steady beat for the flighty rhythm pulsing through the pale man's chest.

As the smoke-user went lax against him, the pirate found that had been sitting there for several minutes, just waiting for his wheezing breaths to subside. Smoker was out, the little energy he had left taken by the whiplash from the seastone. Soft murmurs were all that flittered out of those bloodied lips, as Ace contemplated his next move.

"You're so going to hate me for this..." Ace grunted, slowly lifting up his new-found charge bridal style as he stood. The Marine did not seem to notice, his mind so deeply sunk into unconsciousness that even his usually light sleeping wasn't disturbed.

The fire-user walked carefully past a small house just outside of town. The clothesline stretched over it's lawn was laden with shirts, pants, socks, and sheets, and glancing at the naked bundle of flesh in his arms, he made a quick pit-stop. With a clean sheet giving Smoker some much needed coverage and protection from the cooling air, plus a few articles that might fit his emaciated build, the pirate continued on.

"You know?" the young fire user hummed, more to himself then the sleeping weight in his arms. "One time, when I was little... I found a bird. A dove, really. Something, or most likely _someone, _had gone and broke its wings. I took it home, had the few people that knew how to set bones fix its wings, but even then, they told me it would never be able to fly right again."

He paused, shifting the much-too-light body into one arm so he could fix the loosening sheet. His fingers brushed over the bruise circling the pale neck, and he sighed. "But I never gave up... Several months later, in front of everyone, I held up my hands, and that dove _flew over_ and landed on them to eat a piece of bread." He smiled to himself bitterly.

"Looks like I've found another set of broken wings to fix up, huh?"


	2. Chapter 2

He was in water... Faintly warm liquid slid between his fingers as he flexed them experimentally. Smoker's eyelids fluttered against the light, and he grunted faintly as they stung and sent signals to the rest of his body telling his nerves to wake up. He flat out groaned as the aches and pains once more zipped through his body, his throat scratchy and sore, already. The Marine finally managed to open his eyes into slits, studying the hazy things he could pick out. There was a plain white tile ceiling far above his prone form and a light gray wall to his right.

Grimacing, the smoke user forced his eyes wider, blinking back the pain as he began trying to piece things together in his jumbled head. He was in a nice, medium sized bathroom; the tub, to be exact. Alone, half-submerged in water, and confused.

_'How the...? Why am I here? __**Where **__is here?'_ his head seemed to scream, the pounding in his temples worsening. Fear licked at the back of his mind, but he forced it to stay there with the little power he had. Smoker let his fingers curl into his palms as he looked around. An ache blossomed around his neck as he sifted, and he bit his lip to keep quiet. There really wasn't anything of interest... His thoughts flickered back to his last memories. It all went dark after a quick swirl of smoke and flame ate up that fuzzy memory.

'_Fire Fist... He came and...! The collar. The collar is __**gone**__!' _The Marine's tired mind pieced together. His hand moved slowly, inching out of the water and slowly up his neck. A flicker of discomfort came, but not a single hint of metal. Smoker felt his eyes threaten to water; he tried and failed to stop a few tears of relief from slipping out.

"G-gon-ne..." the smoke user croaked, his fingertips curiously probing the tender flesh. A faint, bittersweet smile broke out across his cracked lips. He hesitantly lifted his hand up, letting the limb come up and hover, shaking, in front of his face. The skin was spotless. He slowly looked over his nails; they had gotten a little long, and the edges were slightly jagged, but not a single speck of dirt was hidden underneath. The cleanliness stretched further down, all along his wrist and forearm, and he easily inferred that his whole body had been diligently scrubbed free of grime. Smoker lifted his other hand, observing the two together with faint wonder. They looked so thin, delicate, even, and paler then the bleached white linens of some fancy hotel. The Marine shuddered, wrapping his arms tightly around his own body.

"No-no-ot... c-cle-ean..." Smoker muttered softly. No, his skin may look clean, but it wasn't. It could never be clean after... that. _He_ could never be clean, pure, _strong_... His fingers rested on his shoulders, digging in and scrubbing harshly with the heal of his hands.

"N-not-t...cl-clean..." he repeated, rubbing harder and harder until he finally began scratching away at his own flesh. Smoker's nails clawed away, the pain numbed as his voice began screaming and yelling out his small mantra.

"Not-t... clea-an!" He was almost wailing it out by the time strong hands wrapped around his wrists and yanked them above his head. He curled back, his head reeling to one side as he waited for a blow, a growl, some kind of punishment. Nothing came except his own labored breaths and faint panting. His shoulders stung, warm liquid dripping down and making the air taste tangy with copper. The Marine's face felt moist, too, but his hands were trapped and he wouldn't dare to move until he was told to.

"Smoker..." His name was called gently, carefully. "Look at me." The smoke user slowly did as he was asked, finally reopening his eyes. Ace was there, holding his oddly bloodied hands and looking down at him with a weird look on his face. He broke that gaze, looking down at his own body. He'd clawed his shoulders open, crimson liquid swirling with the clear water as he was pinned down. Slowly, the fire user let his wrists go, and they dropped numbly into the bathwater.

"...Smoker, look at me." The Marine didn't resist as his face was tilted up and a thumb smoothed away tears he hadn't known he'd started shedding. "Listen well. You are not dirty, or unclean, or _anything_ like that. You aren't a whore, a slut, or something of their kind, either." Smoker searched those eyes for a lie, he had to be lying. There was no way... He couldn't find one little inkling of falsehood in those onyx orbs. His body moved of it's own accord, pressing as close as possible to the warm figure leaning over him, a sob slipping out.

Ace was taken aback, sitting stock still on the edge of the tub as weak hands clung to him with a certain measure of desperation. His hands moved carefully, cradling the Marine's back closer to him while the other one lightly pressed his head of white hair against his chest. Thin fingers curled into the front of his shirt, one of the few the fire user ever wore, and despite the blood that would obviously get on the fabric, Ace encouraged the touch.

"Shhhh...Shhhhhh..." he hummed, resting his chin lightly on Smoker's head, rocking a little to try and calm the loud wails. "Everything's going to be fine..."

The Marine cried his heart out, mangled phrases and questions, like 'Why?' or 'I'm not clean!', were broken with hics and sobs as his emotions had their field-day with his head. The fire user sat calmly through it all, small reassuring hums and gentle hushes slowly bringing the smoke user back. Softly hiccuping and whimpering with pains of more then just his body, the pale man felt himself shivering in the water swirling around his hips.

Ace seemed to feel it, too. The hand cupping the back of his head moved, slowly, and after a little nudging, it laid across his forehead. It felt cool against his skin; the Marine faintly shifted away from the touch. He felt crowded, crushed in the firm grip pressing him against an equally firm chest. The fire user noticed and he was allowed to lay back down in the tub with an almost apologetic grimace on the younger man's lips. Smoker curled up on his side, hugging himself tightly and pressing against the opposite wall. Even though he couldn't see Ace anymore, he could hear the soft sigh and the way the floor creaked as he stood up.

"I can trust you to take your own temperature, right?" the pirate called, shifting things around in a small cabinet. He could feel the Marine peek over his shoulder to send a scrutinizing glance at his back. Ace turned and met that look with a questioning brow. Smoker quickly faltered and those dulled eyes bored into the side of the tub like a dejected child, the white head of hair almost snapping back into place. The fire user sat back down on the edge, making sure he made enough noise for the smoke user to pick out where he was.

"Smoker, I'm going to have your temperature taken _today_, and if you don't know, it's half past eleven, already," the fire user tisked as the pale man tried to become one with the opposite side of the tub. "You can either do it yourself, or I will. Your choice." A thin hand slowly reached back, palm up and open. Ace would have smirked if it wasn't so unnerving to have Smoker even _acknowledge_ he'd made a request, let alone a faint threat. The fire user set the plastic device neatly in the waiting hand, careful not to actually touch it for the sake of his charge's comfort, and he waited calmly as the limb whipped back out of sight. Faint grunts and choked back whimpers filled the small room. The pirate felt his brow quirk lightly as he watched pale shoulders twitch and tense.

_'He's have trouble... Using a thermometer? Why would he... Oh, right,'_ the young man thought to himself, almost whacking himself on the back of the head for being an idiot. _'His jaw's still dislocated! I didn't set it back it place while he was out, and the muscles are __**still**__ not going to respond and let him close his mouth until things are realigned.'_ Through most likely holding the little probe in place, though, Smoker had managed to get a reading. The high pitched beep made both men jump a little, the Marine almost dropping the device in the bathwater. Shifting lightly on his perch, Ace waited for a number to dispel or prove his suspicions.

After a few moments of soft mumbles and the Marine moving the little device back and forth to try and ready the small numbers with his hazy eyesight, the fire user gave an irritable sigh. He stuck his own hand out, palm up, with a bored expression on his face. Ace felt dull eyes look over his hand pointedly, a low whine coming from Smoker's throat as his space was closer to invasion.

"I'll read it out loud," the pirate hummed, his eyes tracing a crack in the wall as he waited. The device was quickly plopped in his hand, and Ace brought it up to his own face. He rolled his eyes once, looked at the body shivering behind him, then read the numbers again. "102.4 degrees... Shouldn't be surprising with how drafty that place was." Now he had a mentally, emotionally, and physically damaged Marine... with a fever. Kami had it in for _both_ of them, Smoker with his obvious hurts and Ace with having to help him though them; that wasn't going to be a picnic no matter how he looked at it.

With a calm flick, the fire user pulled the plug and let the water start draining. The older man flinched as air caressed his wet skin, sending even more shudders through his weak frame. Before he could voice his protests, Smoker found himself hoisted up in warm arms and being rubbed down lightly with a towel. He whimpered, unable to hold back the quivering or the discomfort as he was touched. The fluffy fabric was wrapped gently around his lanky shoulders. It dangled down to his mid-thigh, even when Ace scooped him up, again.

"H-hey!" the smoke user snapped, squirming around in the firm grip the pirate had on his body. A small look from Ace had him petrified, even though it was only faint irritation in the young man's eyes, as he was moved to another room. He was set down carefully on a bed, the covers smelling faintly of cinnamon and citrus. The fire user's bed, to be sure, and Smoker didn't like being in it one bit.

_'I-is he going to...? Would he... do that to me?'_ his mind tittered, the Marine's body curling tightly in on itself. Silence stretched on for several minutes, Ace calmly moving around the room and Smoker too self-conscious and nervous to try and break it. Finally, just as he'd started to doze off, Ace made a move. A hand was quick, sliding the dislocated bone back into place with a loud crack before the smoker user's body could register the move and fight back with the little strength he did have. It didn't keep the smoke user from yelping in pain, though.

"Sorry, sorry..." the young pirate soothed, his hands up in a surrendering position. His charge gave him a small dirty look, a hand rubbing his tender jaw as he tried to keep a soft whimper from grinding out of his teeth. "It needed to be popped back in place! It would have hurt more if I'd have gotten you all worked up and your muscles tense." Smoker faintly glowered,but instead curled back up and nestled into the soft fabrics under him.

"Thirsty?" Ace hummed, a glass of water nudging the little bit of Smoker still visible. He'd wormed his way under several of the blankets; even then, the shivering refused to stop. Slowly, a head popped out, look at the glass, and nodded. Sitting neatly on the bed, the fire user carefully let the Marine sip the cool liquid. Smoker's body relaxed unintentionally, a hand gently touching the smooth side of the glass as it was held for him. His body was shaking so much, Ace doubted he'd be able to hold it for himself. As he tipped the last of the water down to the smoke user, he let a soft smile grace his lips.

Smoker looked almost childish with his lips parted and his cheeks flushed with fever. His eyes were closed, but in a relaxed way. A soft moan slid out as the roughness in his throat was soothed, and without the grime or unruly stubble, which he'd shaved away for now, the Marine looked much younger. That may have been due to the thinness of his face, though, but Ace couldn't deny he looked much less intimidating with his hair ruffled and his tough darting out to gather droplets of water that were too stubborn to slide down to his lips. The tiny yawn that came as he set the glass down, though, was way too adorable to actually be the feared White Hunter.

"Here," Ace sighed, pressing a small bundle of clothing against the pale fingertips still peeking out of the cloth. "It's not much as far as clothes go, but it's more then a towel." The smoker user glanced at him for a split second, a little confused. "I'll be in the other room, changing. Call if you need anything." Ace stood and made to more towards the doorway, but a hand shot out and gripped at the hem of his shirt.

"NO! ...Please, no...D-don't leave!" Smoker whimpered, panic radiating from his body. He didn't trust the pirate but... "I-if I'm alone... They'll come back. T-they'll come back a-and-" A warm hand resting lightly on his head cut the smoke user off. Ace marveled slightly at the soft strands of hair resting under his fingers, but he remembered the fearful man they were attached to. He knelt down, catching the Marine's eyes. They were wide and swirling with fever and panic,and his own gaze relaxed a little.

"I am only going into the bathroom. I will keep the door open and once I'm not naked, anymore,I will come right back in here," the pirate crooned. His charge still didn't look convinced. "Fine, fine... I'll look away while you get dressed, alright?" After a minute of hesitance and looking nervously between Ace and the loose towel, the Marine nodded.

It took a while, with his joins aching so badly he could swear his limbs would just fall off, but Smoker was soon clothed. The t-shirt and sweatpants were comfortably roomy, the soft material swimming around him, but with months of nudity, the smoke user couldn't be more pleased. True to his word, the pirate had sat facing the opposite wall. Fingering the hem of the shirt carefully, Smoker glanced at the young man.

_'Not a single snide remark... Opportunity after opportunity to rub __**this**__ in... and nothing,' _his mind mused. Not that he wasn't glad. As things were, he wasn't sure if he'd be able to handle the kinds of teasing Ace could use with all that had happened. From the event several hours ago to the tear-stained panic attacks that had taken up the last half-hour, there would be _plenty_ to make him cringe. Was this... pirate... being civil with him? This only encouraged he should be civil back.

"T-thank you... For everything," the Marine muttered, the edges of his newly acquired clothes once more the most interesting thing in the room. He could feel and hear the fire user shift to look at him with surprise. If circumstances were different and his head wasn't pounding like drum, Smoker would have likely done the same thing. He felt warm hands gently raise the covers up around him, and he dared to glance up in time to see a soft smile grace a pair of freckled cheeks.

"Don't mention it," was the calm response he got. "Now, for sleep! You're gonna need it if you're going to get back on your feet. I," The fire user chuckled, tossing an extra pillow and blanket on the ground a few feet away. "Will be right here if you need me." The Marine simply nodded, burrowing into the sheets with a content groan. He was warm, comfortable, and clothed; for now, that would do nicely.

"Night, Smoker!"

"...Goodnight... Fire Fist." The pirate audibly rolled his eyes, if you could even do that.

"Lighten up a little. Just Ace will work fine. It's a lot easier to say, anyways."

"...Fine, then...Ace..." Smoker tried to pretend he didn't like the shorter name as he dropped off to sleep. The fire user, on the other hand, had the stupidest grin on his face for almost an hour, and didn't give a damn.


	3. Chapter 3

As he'd anticipated, the young pirate woke to hoarse screams. Ace was on his feet in a heartbeat, checking the room over with his gaze before he let his eyes settle on the disturbance. His frown deepened a little as he found the lump of quivering covers. _'Nightmares.'_  
The Marine was barely visible though the tangle of sheets, but his skin was pale and sweaty, and cries of terror were forcing their way out of his throat. He would lay deceivingly still for a few seconds before the images had his weak limbs thrashing. It was almost disturbing how a heavy blanket managed to keep the smoke user from lifting his arms and legs more then a few inches off the bed. As a fit tapered off, the fire user intervened. He lay on his side on top of the covers, cradling Smoker to his chest firmly enough that he couldn't hurt himself.  
"Oi, oi! It's alright... It's just a bad dream!" Ace grunted, feeling the scrawny body buck and whimper against him. "Smoker, wake up! You're fine. They can't get you!" The smoke user froze, his hot breath coming fast and hard against a sun kissed collarbone as his eyelids snapped open. "They can't get you, now..." Smoker slumped against him, exhausted and panting. The fire user could feel the fever stewing even higher then before, cursing himself silently for not tending to it earlier. A hesitant hand poked out of the blankets, clinging to the front of his shirt.  
"T-they were h-here... They w-were _here_ a-and you...y-you'd left...Th-they chased m-me, and I r-ran, but th-there was a dead e-end, and-" Smoker was cut off by a gentle hand tilting his face up. Ace felt himself flinch at the combination of emotions flickering through the Marine's eyes. So much pain and so much fear... He let his fingers softly smooth over that pale cheek, catching stray tears that escaped his charge's eyes.  
"Smoker, it was a nightmare. They _cannot_ come for you, and I wouldn't let them if they tried. You're _safe_," The pirate murmured, a tiny, reassuring squeeze and a calm smile helping to make the pale man relax into his grip. The Marine went lax, burrowing against his chest as a whine bubbled up. Ace could feel the panic still coursing through the smoke user's systems, and he nestled him closer. A flushed cheek pressed against his neck, and even with his powers, the fire user winced at the heat.  
"C'mon. That fever isn't going to fix itself," the pirate hummed. Smoker pressed against him, whimpering a little as he was easily untangled from the sweat-soaked sheets. He shook, the fever doing a number on his control, and he groaned weakly. The fire user relented a little, cradling him closer to his chest as he stood and shifted the Marine so he was comfortably held in the crook of one of his arms. Pale fingers tightened their grip on his shirt as he moved carefully to the closet. After a little digging around, Ace found a couple items that would work well for his little plan and headed into the bathroom.  
The mirror caught his attention as he walked past. The fire user paused, not sure what to make of the sight. From the way the Marine was curled into his chest, his face nestled against the nape of his neck, he looked almost helpless. Smoker was pressing against him, moaning and shivering like... a _child_. A young child clinging to a parent's shirt and pleading for the pain and fear and _bad things_ to be taken away. And from the tired but determined look on his own freckled face, he almost felt like a parent. Shaking his head lightly, he moved on to the tub with a faint sigh. Ace sat on the edge of the large tub, the Marine shivering in his lap as the fire user once more picked up the thermometer.  
"Open wide," the pirate hummed, and for once, Smoker obeyed without a single hint of protest. He just sat there, followed his directions, and didn't seem to care where they came from or what they might mean. _'It's the fever for sure...'_ Ace lamented, popping the device under the smoke user's tongue without any push-back. Pale lips closed lightly, holding the plastic probe still as feverish eyes stared blankly ahead. The fire user let himself stroke his charge's back soothingly, and despite the shudders wracking the Marine's body, the quaking frame relaxed completely into the movement. A few minutes and a beep later, Ace could almost feel himself age a little with legitimate worry.  
"104.6... Kami, that's not good," the pirate muttered, holding Smoker a little tighter. "Alright, it's time for another bath, Smoker." Warm hands carefully lifted up the hem of his shirt, and the Marine twitched, coming back a little with a flash of panic.  
"W-wha...? D-don-n't..." the whine was faint and slurred. The smoker user's hands seemed hesitant to detach from the fabric of Ace's shirt, but they did loosen a little.  
"Smoker, that fever needs to go down, and as much skin as possible needs to be exposed for this to work right," the younger man almost pleaded. "Trust me, you will be fine... You can even keep you underwear on, but you... we need that fever lowered, minimum." Slowly, Smoker nodded, his body quivering harder. He stayed silent as he was stripped down, though the pirate saw the small flinches and heard the faint sounds that the smoke user didn't catch quite entirely. He was scared, but was too weak, afraid, or loopy with fever to resist.  
With the almost naked Marine shivering in his arms, Ace started the water running. The bath was cool, comfortably cool for a healthy person. The fever may be dangerously high, but the last thing he needed was almost freezing Smoker to death trying to bring it down. As the water swirled and filled the tub, the pirate let a hand reach down to his shorts. With a little squirming of his own, Ace had the black fabric bunched around his ankles and a slightly confused and nervous Marine.  
"I'm just gonna help you cool down. Besides, I've been needing a bath for days, now. Two birds with one stone!" the fire user explained. It was half-true. After the little scare when Smoker had woken up, he didn't entirely trust the man to be alright when left to his own devices. With the intensity of the grip clinging to his person, Ace felt he would either be hunched over the tub or sitting in it, anyways. With the plug fitted in place, Ace stepped over the rim and stood in the half-full bath. Cool water sloshed around his calves, but he didn't mind that much as he slowly lowered the smoke user's feet until they touched the surface.  
"C-cold! N-no... P-pleas-se, Ace... No-o... T-too co-old!" Smoker yelped, trying to lift himself as far away from the cool liquid as he could. Ace was persistent, though, and he sat, Smoker cradled against him and whimpering all the way, until the bathwater was swirling around both of their navels. The Marine was quaking between his legs, pressing into the warm chest that still gave off steady heat as the coolness penetrated his fever-warmed skin. He gave a long whine, his fingers curling fiercely into the still present shirt that the young pirate wore.  
"Relax... Smokey, relax," Ace crooned, leaning back until he was comfortably reclined against the wall and Smoker laying against him. He waited patiently for the tiny whimpers to end, as they inevitably did once the Marine's body began to adjust to the temperature of the water sloshing around him.  
"See? This'll help you feel better. Let the water wash over you and take all the fever, the stress, everything..." the fire user hummed gently, a hand slowly tracing a pattern across his charge's pale back as it went limp. Once he was sure the smoke user was relaxed, a sun kissed hand grabbed a clean washcloth from a near-by pile and soaked it in the chilled water. He wrung out the extra liquid before letting the cloth press firmly against Smoker's upper back and neck.  
"Nnngh! A-Ace..." the Marine whimpered, the coolness of the cloth making him arch a little. "I-it's co-old..." The pirate just hummed, the sound rumbling though his chest and into the shivering body nestling against him. It soothed him, and the smoke user let himself relax softly as another cloth was wet and placed on his forehead. His breathing slowed until it was deep and even; the world slowly began to stop dancing with dark spots and weird blurbs of color that looked kinda like little birds fluttering around the room. It may have been an hour, many a few minutes, but Smoker honestly didn't feel like he needed to know.  
"Better?" a warm voice murmured against the top of his head. Ace felt the tiny nod, and he let himself relax a little. "Good... I'm going to take your temperature, again, okay?" The plastic device was slid easily back under his tongue, and Smoker just sat there and shivered lightly as they waited. Another beep sounded, and Ace plucked the thermometer from his lips calmly.  
"I-is it bad?" the Marine muttered, his eyes peeking up at the freckled face as onyx eyes studied the small probe. A calm, and faintly relieved, grin took up that tanned face, and the tension left them both.  
"100.2 degrees. You're good, Smoker. Ready to get out?" Ace smirked at the almost frantic nod. "Really don't like the cold, huh?" Smoker gave a tiny grumble, but a yelp replaced it as he was lifted up out of the water. The fire user was quick with the towel, and the Marine was swaddled neatly while Ace used his powers to dry himself.  
It wasn't that much longer before Smoker was sitting, still clinging to whatever part of the pirate that was still in reach, in nothing but an over-sized t-shirt and a fresh pair of boxers. He glanced softly at Ace as he tried to keep from squirming and whimpering under the gentle touches prodding his tender shoulders. Ace sighed apologetically, pulling back a little as he dabbed disinfectant on the torn skin.  
"That's the last one," the fire user finally sighed, shifting the fabric back so it mostly covered the nail marks. The Marine relaxed a fraction, a small hum of relief sliding out as his shoulder was covered up a little. A quick glance at the clock claimed the time to be 5:51. "So, you up for breakfast?"  
"This early...?" the smoke user grumbled, a tiny spark of his usual scowl gracing his features. It lost its potency when his body had a mutiny and his stomach growled loudly. That combined with the fact that the shirt was large enough that it dangled off one of his shoulders not mater how he arranged it. Smoker's free hand curled a little around his abdomen, the discomfort of hunger gnawing away at him. Ace gave him a look that screamed, _'That's bull and you know it.'_ He looked away quietly, his pride stinging a little.  
"Alright, then! Breakfast it is," the pirate chirped. His mood lifted at the mention of food, and the Marine couldn't help but perk himself. After a quick jaunt by the couch for a cushion, Ace settled the smoke user gently on a chair in the kitchen. The cushion helped with the ache in his rear, so Smoker let himself relax a fraction. As the young man made to move away, he clung to his arm.  
"Don't... Please, don't," Smoker pleaded, his shoulders shaking a little. The fear was still there, and Ace felt himself falter as he looked into his charge's eyes for a moment.  
"I'm not going anywhere. Just getting you something to eat," the pirate crooned, caressing his feverish cheek gently. After a second of hesitation, Smoker let go, and Ace calmly began moving around the kitchen. _'Let's see... Eggs should be fine for his jaw,and I think there's some yogurt in the fridge...Maybe a bit of applesauce, too.'_ Ace mussed, setting a pan over the burner. As soon as the eggs started to sizzle and let their aroma waif through the air, the fire user could almost see the Marine start to salivate. He really hadn't eaten in a while, then. Guess he'd be having his own breakfast later to keep Smoker from being tempted to eat more then his body was currently able to handle. With a faint shake of his head, Ace set the steaming plate down where Smoker could reach with a fork and moved over to the fridge to check for anything else soft enough for a healing jaw to chew.  
As he rummaged through the boxes and containers, a faint nose caught his attention. Smoker was panting lightly, and when he flicked his glance back, he knew why. Having food that close, Ace was surprised he hadn't tried inhaling the still hot eggs the second his hands could reach the plate. The smoke user was panting to cool the eggs he'd already tried eating, as well as a small burn on his tongue. After a moment he heard the smoke user manage to swallow.  
When the Marine's eyes came up to meet the pirate's, he looked away quickly like he'd been caught sticking his hand in the cookie jar or something. His fingers curled into the fabric of the shirt Ace had put on him. They were Ace's clothes, oddly enough, but with the weight he'd lost, they hung around him like a tunic.  
"P-pathetic..." he muttered, his eyes stinging. He forced himself to hold it back; he had to hold it back. "I'm s-so damn _pathetic_..."  
"No, you're human. Big difference, Smoker," the pirate grunted. The Marine flinched, a salty drop forcing its way out. A warm hand landed on his back, rubbing small, soothing circles across one pale shoulder and one clothed shoulder as they began twitching. It was a small fit compared to the others, but the tears came and the smoke user sniffed and fought himself to try and reign them back inside. Finally, it tapered off and he looked up to the oddly soft eyes that flickered with fire.  
"Why...?" The unspoken question lingered in the air, even when Ace's hand ruffled his snowy hair.  
"'Cause there are lines you don't cross," he replied. His voice had a seriousness that sounded more like it should be coming from an old man laying on his deathbed, not a youth with 20 years barely under his belt. But the tone faded away quickly, turning lighter as the plate was nudged closer. "Now eat up before it gets cold. If you don't start gaining some mass, I'll have to start calling _you_ the scrawny brat." A ghost of a bitter grin found its way onto Smoker's face.  
"You'll have to do better then that, hotshot."

A.N.: A big thanks to Honyaku for the support!


	4. Chapter 4

The fever persisted for over two weeks. Some days it stayed lower, others days it almost broke 104 degrees, again. The Marine could go from relatively normal and quiet to asking odd questions to hallucinations that showed up on the ceiling. Ace did what he could, keeping him hydrated and fed while trying to bring his temperature back down. He'd actually started leaving a cool washcloth across Smoker's brow each night to try and keep it down long enough for the nightmares to ease off a little. It didn't seem to help, though, and the pirate found himself sliding into the routine of waking up and calming down the older man every morning.

Throughout the weeks, the fire user took note of just about everything his charge did. He picked up little signs and triggers for when it was okay to touch the other man and when he needed space. It came in handy quite quickly seeing how the smoke user's mood fluctuated. From enraged to breaking down sobbing to tired or fearful silence, Ace had one hell of a time navigating that troubled mind half the time. The few questions he dared to ask got either a bristled response or a vague answer.

Ace eyed the Marine over the paper. All he could really see of the older man was his gaunt head; the rest of his body was nestled tightly in a navy blue comforter as he sat on the window seat. His eyes had lost the glazed look, finally. Just that morning, the fever was down to 98.9 degrees when they checked after the usual rituals of holding Smoker firmly until the terror from the latest flashback or dream was under control. His eyes still lacked the sharpness the fire user remembered from Alabasta, though, as he observed the world outside the window.

It wasn't the best view seeing how it was still inside the town, but it was away from the hustle of the main streets. People would leave their homes when the sun came up, come back as it went down, and depending on the day, go out after dark for Kami knew what. Ace never asked, and he didn't plan on asking; nosing around like that was guaranteed to get him more trouble and have other people nosing in on his own little problem. With Smoker still skittish around _one_ person, he doubted anything good would come of forcing him to be around anyone else.

He watched calmly, the paper loosing it's appeal as he observed Smoker. A yawn came, pale eyelids drooping lower by the minute until they slid shut. Before he knew it, Ace was carrying a sleeping Marine back to the bedroom like he did it every day. Even with the steady supply of food and nutrients going into his body, the smoke user was still light enough to hold with one arm and too weak to stand on his own legs. Ace had caught him trying a few times, mostly because he had to help him off the floor and back onto the bed after each attempt. He'd made promise after promise that he'd help the Marine build his body back up once the fever was gone for sure, and the young pirate had a feeling that day would be coming soon.

Smoker moaned softly as he was tucked in, but stayed blissfully asleep. The young pirate let his fingers trail up the pale column of neck muscles, over the fading bruises and scrapes, and softly along the faint silvery stubble that had begun to collect on his charge's jaw. There was a small hitch in his breathing as the ring of wounded tissue was touched, but the smoke user only squirmed under the blanket and burrowed deeper. Ace's lips twitched upwards in a fond smile at the innocence of the movement, letting his fingers gently play with a longer lock of the Marine's white hair. The fire user marveled silently at the smoothness and softness of the silver strands while making sure he didn't wake Smoker in the process.

"How the hell you keep your hair like this, I'll never know," the pirate hummed, letting the strands go and standing up. His eyes, however still traced over the bruises coloring the smoke user's pale neck with a certain measure of concern. The seastone's harsh pressure had left even harsher marks, and with supposed months of the element sapping away Smoker's powers; he hadn't been able to use them since Ace had first snapped the damn thing in two.

"Huh... I think that pharmacy shop down the street had something that could help..." Ace murmured, glancing from the prone form to the window. "Things'll be fine as long as I get back before he wakes back up, right? And that ointment _would_ help him recover faster, and he _does_ want to get better as soon as he can..." The young fire user edged closer to the doorway, and for once since he'd brought the Marine into the building, there wasn't a whimper or look or grabbing arm trying to keep him there. With a silent promise to only be away for 15 minutes at the most, the pirate was out the door and reveling in the fresh air and sunlight.

It was on the warmer side for an Autumn island today, the usually brisk weather letting up a little. Ace glanced back at his 'home', one of the many larger houses Pops had set up. This island was in White Beard territory, though it didn't stop the World Government from sticking its nose in every once and a while. One of the first things Ace's captain did once he had a new territory was set up communications and lodging for his sons. This one had nice, separate houses for the commanders, unlike a few of the other islands where the fire user had stayed. Most were renovated buildings that no one used, anymore, or a re-purposed hotel.

The trip down the street was quick, and the shop was practically empty, meaning Ace was in and out in a little over 3 minutes. As he made his way back up the street, a small part of the fire user nagged that the fridge was almost empty. That part was named 'stomach', and it got very talkative when meals were involved.

"Maybe I can grab something real fast..." the pirate murmured, glancing at the clock tower to check his time. "I still have 11 minutes. I think I can at least get enough to last until tomorrow morning." With his stomach settling with approval, the young man made his was to the market at a near sprint. People would curse or glare at the tanned blur as it hurried past, but Ace gave them no mind except a hurried, but good natured, apology. He had done this plenty of times before during his childhood, except the people and buildings had usually been trees, bushes, and cliffs that he didn't have to worry about offending.

As he expected, the market was buzzing with activity; it wasn't quite a mad scramble for items, but there were people grouped around different vendors trying to get what they needed before zipping off to their next stop. By going where the crowds were thinest, Ace made good time. He had several bags of decent food hanging over his shoulder by the time he glanced back at the clock tower. He did a double take.

"Shit! I've been here for almost a half hour!" the fire user hissed under his breath, fighting his way out of the market as people scrambled to fill his place. Ace felt himself panic a little as he hustled back through the streets towards the house. It wasn't someone finding the Marine he was worried about, though. The pirate was scared to death of what Smoker would do left to his own devices, still, and with the nightmares and almost clingy behavior, he didn't want to think about what might happen.

_'Please be asleep, please be asleep, please be asleep!'_ the young pirate's mind chanted as he reached the front steps. He froze, sniffing the air as a faint oder tickled his nose. _'It smells like... like smoke?'_ Cautiously, Ace cracked open the door and peeked through the gap. The room was full of smoke, the wisps curling and snaking through the air quickly before pulling back in to the large cloud hovering on the ceiling. Blinking slowly, the fire user entered the room, closing the door neatly behind him. The cloud of smoke seemed to jump at the noise, pulling back inside itself while the pirate set down bags.

"Smoker...?" Ace hummed, watching with faint amusement as the ball of soot uncurled a little. Though still agitated, the wisps ventured out, again, curling hesitantly around an offered hand and wrist. "Glad to see you're feeling a little better." Smoker didn't really reply, only hovered closer and snaked tighter around his hand. The agitation had faded to panic. After a minute of contemplation, the pirate gave a good natured chuckle.

"I get it... You flipped out, accidentally went smoke, and now you're having trouble switching back," he grinned. The smoke seemed to ripple with irritation or embarrassment; it was hard to tell without a face or body to read. "Well, it's been a while since you've worked with your powers, neh? It's understandable to have a bit of trouble getting back into the swing of things." Ace was calm, letting his fingers flicker to life with flames. Smoker lapped at the fire greedily, curling tightly around the burning digits with a purr, if smoke could even purr. The fire user let his eyes roll with a satisfied grin before letting his ethereal form spread, flesh melting into flames all along his arms and shoulders.

It felt natural, letting the smoke swirl and absorb the energy seeping from each tongue of fire as he held it, and Ace silently enjoyed it for a minute. Slowly, he let his flames wrap around the cloud of vapor, pulling it in tightly. The smoke didn't resist; in fact, it seemed to enjoy being cocooned in the pyre, sweeping in the sparks with a pleased twist. Just as before, the fire carefully pressed in, molding the cloud gently and holding firmly as the smoke settled into the shape. Staying stubbornly ethereal, Smoker seemed lost in the heat and his own mind, fully melded with his element.

_'Come on,'_ a voice purred, another consciousness entering the mist of the Marine's thoughts. It sent a wave of calmness through him, Smoker knew that voice. _'Smoker, take control of yourself, you know how. The energy force's gotten lose.' _The smoke almost nodded, pushing a faint thanks back before his focus shifted. Smoker let his mind begin wrapping back around that ball of energy that bobbed around it, but it kept slipping away before he could pull it all the way inside. He tried again, and before the orb could slip away, a fiery presence looped around it.

_'Take your time. I've got it,' _the flames whispered, lending him more power as coils of Smoker's own thoughts circled it tightly. The two worked together, setting the energy firmly back in the Marine's conscious control before both minds shifted back to their respective forms. Fire slid to skin and muscle with ease, smoke less gracefully following its example. The pirate stood, letting the still heaving chest of his charge lean against him.

"I'm sorry I left without telling you," the fire user mumbled into the head of white hair resting on his shoulder. "There were things I needed to get, and I thought I could make it back before you woke up." Smoker just clung tighter, quiet insults coming from under his breath. The pirate wasn't sure if they were directed at him for leaving the house or at the Marine for being weak; he clawed his mind for something to distract his charge. As he looked the smoke user over, a light bulb flicked on.

"Enough of that muttering, Smoker. Come on, let's work with your legs a little," Ace hummed. The Marine looked up at him questioningly, and an unmanly yelp came out when his support shifted away. Instead of flopping back against the pirate, though, he stayed relatively upright on his own feet. His hands clutched the sun kissed man's shoulders tightly, still needing him for support as he stood. Smoker looked at himself quietly, his legs quivering from disuse, but staying in place instead of giving out.

"H-how...?"

"You were standing this whole time since I got you back on the ground," the fire user chirped, showing with a slight squeeze that his hands had stayed looped around the smoke user's torso instead of supporting his legs. "And I promised I'd help out. Let's start easy for the first go, alright? Just a quick walk to the couch." Smoker let his eyes flick from his legs to the sofa sitting a few feet away to the encouraging look on the pirate's freckled face.

"Alright. Let's...let's go," the Marine nodded, a flash of determination that ghosted his old demeanor settling into his eyes. The first step was small and tentative, testing just how far his body would let him push. Ace felt the small flinch zip through his charge with the second, bigger step, but he didn't coddle, just let him do as he seemed to want to. Smoker's eyes were glued to the ground, watching with stone-set concentration as he moved one foot after another, seeing the ends of the pirates boots are they shifted back to give him room for each shuffle forward. The fire user heard soft grunts of discomfort as they finally reached the couch, as well as an increased amount of wobbling.

"That's good for now, Smoker," he hummed, gaining the smoke user's attention. His head whipped up, and despite the firm face he had on, Ace saw that he was almost at the point where his legs were going to collapse. The fire user gave a small quirk of his brow, and despite the disappointed huff from the Marine, he scooped up the shaking limbs and set him neatly on the couch. The faint moan that slid out as the pressure was taken off the smoke user's feet confirmed the strain was more then his body wanted to handle.

"We'll work on it more later," the fire user assured, but the note of finality in his voice made sure Smoker understood who was still in charge. The smoke user pouted, looking off to the side irately, though the pirate couldn't help the soft laugh that bubbled out. "Sorry, sorry... You look cute when you get mad like that." The flush that stained the Marine's usually pale cheeks was easy to see, as was the scandalized expression and small yip of surprise.

"I'm not fucking _cute_, asshole," Smoker glowered, turning away to try and hide the embarrassment that turned his cheeks a shade darker. The pirate chuckled, ruffling his hair playfully.

"Ah, don't get grumpy like that," Ace teased. "It makes you cuter~!" The pirate ignored the choice curses flung at him from under the Marine's breath, instead focusing on the scent still wafting through the room.

"Come on, admit it. You look adorable when you pout and get all flustered. Add to that the facts that your hair feels like a baby duck and you smell like bacon, and I see cute," the pirate hummed. Smoker sent a glare that was more questioning then frightening at the fire user.

"I smell like what?"

"You're not tobacco smoke, at least, not completely. You go smoke, and it smells just like hickory smoke for _hours,_" Ace smirked, watching the blush fade a little. "Had me craving bacon for a good week after we clashed back in Alabasta. Since you haven't had any cigars for a while, you were straight hickory when you had that little fit." A pair of growls broke the conversation and Smoker fixed the younger man with an unamused stare.

"Don't tell me... We're having bacon for lunch."

"You know me so well, cutie~!" Ace was quickly out reach with the excuse of putting away groceries, but he still had time to look back and chuckle at the fresh blush on his charge before a throw-pillow almost hit him square in the face.

"Don't call me that!"


	5. Chapter 5

A.N.: Sorry for the delay. My muse was being a little flighty, this past couple weeks, and I didn't have a lot done on this chapter before then. Little short compared to the rest, but please read, critique, and enjoy~!

Time ticked by on the little island, and Ace was glad it had. Though far from back to his usual self in both mind and body, Smoker was feeling better. His frame was filling out enough that you couldn't see his bones stretching his skin taught when a shirt or blanket shifted enough to show it. He could walk around the house without the use of furniture, walls, or a steadying arm, and was sleeping soundly though the night a couple times a week. The nightmares were still going strong, but with a little of his old temperament back, the Marine was trying to handle them himself. Most of the time, though, Ace still had to let him cling to him for a few hours to get it all out of his system.

A couple week ago, Smoker had even consented to a quick stole outside. He'd covered almost every patch of his skin and insisted on wearing a hat all the way over his ears, but still. The smoke user had gone _outside the house_ of his own will, and even seemed to enjoy himself for a little while. For that, Ace was glad the town was smaller than Lougetown. There were less people there for the smoke user to feel uncomfortable around, and the community were kit closely enough that just about everyone new that the new guy was nervous and not that confident around others. They gave him space when they passed Smoker in the streets and small smiles and nods when he entered stores.

The pirate had even managed to leave the house for almost two hours and come home to a calm Smoker reading the paper and puffing away at a cigarette. The little fit with his smoke powers had left him feeling more in control, and he had made a habit of practicing every evening with his ethereal form. He was a little rusty, not having been in touch with his sooty core for what Ace guessed to be 3 to 4 months, and it showed in his stamina and precision. There was also faint comfort from the small link the two logicas had gained. The fire and smoke had almost started communicating with one another, making a small sense of one another always present in the back of their host's minds.

Glancing at the couch, the smoke user tugged on a pair of gloves. Ace was out like a light; narcoleptic fits usually gave him an hour or two of complete peace. Tugging on the laces of the borrowed boots to make sure they held, Smoker slowly turned the doorknob. After a hesitant exit from the relative protection of the house, he was out waking the near empty street. The black cap was tugged nervously over his ears as he made his way though the small streets, dodging anyone that he came upon as he did.

_'I... I need to think,'_ the Marine thought, slipping into an ally as a couple passed by. _'Everything's different, now... I don't even know what I am, anymore, let alone what to do with myself. And Ac- no, no... He's a pirate, don't use his first name!' _The smoke user sighed to himself. _'But with what he's done for me... Kami,I need something to take my mind off all this bullshit.'_

An especially large group of people began trickling out as Smoker found himself with nowhere to escape to but a small shop. He didn't bother reading the sign before ducking in. The sent of cut bamboo and lacquer filled his nostrils the second he breathed in, and he felt his shoulders relax a little. The shop was made up of many shelves and small areas taken up by larger instruments. Taiko drums, tsuri-daiko drums, gongs, horagi, nohkan, koto, just about any instrument the Marine could remember from his childhood escapades into some of the more mountainous areas of the island.

Smoker let a hand trail slowly over one of the closer shelves, eying the wooden instruments with an almost childlike fascination. He wandered around the shop in reverent silence, looking from one intricate woodwork to the next. A smaller display caught his eye and he paused, a fond look taking up his face.

"Hotchiku flutes..." the Marine murmured, approaching the small cluster of bamboo. There were several sizes, a lined up neatly and sitting, pristine, on the tiny shelf. The bored holes were perfect, lined up precisely and opening up exactly as they should. The bamboo smelled fresh and unlacquered, as it should, and Smoker felt his shoulders relax as he breathed it in. He remembered the sent well, the many hours he spent with only a whittled piece of the fiber-y plant to pass the time leaving it clearly imprinted in his mind.

"Do you play, boy?" a gravely voice seemed to grunt from several yards away. Smoker jumped, whipping his head over to find the source. It was a much older man, most likely the shop owner, who was no less then 85 if the smoke user was one to judge him. His wrinkled skin was pulling softly up as a curious, yet somehow knowing look glistened in his frail eyes. Calloused, knobby hands gripped a cane as he hobbled over, back bent and neck tilting up to they kept eye contact.

"I said, do you play?" Smoker flushed faintly at the question, his fingers fidgeting with the lint in his jacket pockets as he let his gaze slide back to the flutes.

"I...I used to," he murmured, his eyes taking in every familiar detail of the bamboo instruments. "Been so long since I've played, I doubt I'd sound any good." His eyes lingered on one of the medium sized flutes, a 2.8 meter long one that almost caught the light. There was a faint look of realization on the older gentleman's face as his beady eyes flicked from the Marine to the hotchiku. A withered hand slowly picked the flute up, scrutinized it for a minute, before turning and moving over to several floor cushions, waving his hand for Smoker to follow.

"Here," the craftsman gestured, pointing to a cushion like he wanted the middle-aged man to take a seat before settling on another one nearby. Hesitantly, the smoke user sat, curious as to why he was wanted. "Play something. Anything you want to." The bamboo was pressed into his hands before he could try to retaliate. He blinked down at the instrument in his hands, the weight feeling oddly like it should be there

Slowly, he pulled off his gloves and set them aside, the smoker user shifting his posture and swallowing thickly. He let his eyes slide closed, blocking out the room, the older man watching him with mild interest, even the flickering sensation of flame in the back of his mind. Muscle memory took over, his fingers laying over the holes with a kind of trained ease.

The first note was low, natural in a way that only this flute seemed to have. It scattered the torrent of thoughts and worries in his mind as he tentatively began weaving a song. He didn't remember where he heard the tune, a somber, almost wailing melody, but it felt... right. That was how Ace found him a few minutes later, playing the bamboo flute mournfully while the old man nodded in a bittersweet way to himself.

"Shhhh... Let his soul weep," the craftsman murmured before the fire user could try and snap his charge out of the calm state. The young pirate nodded softly, watching from the side before softly taking up another cushion. With a voice that was still soft enough to not disturb the Marine as he played, the old man spoke, again.

"He has been through much, has he not? The soul of my instruments reacted to his the moment he entered this store. That flute... it carries a broken story as well." His wizened voice seemed to sync up with the song as he began weaving a tale. "My granddaughter brought it to me not long after the fire devoured that vile brothel. It was from one of the rooms. It had seen much suffering; women, girls... and apparently a few men stripped of dignity and forced to do unspeakable acts. She said the piece had called to her from the rubble, and I made the flute from it. It harbors their pain and sorrows, and I thought none would ever be called to it. I am glad I was wrong in such regards..."

Ace couldn't help but nod gently as he watched Smoker play the unlacquered bamboo. His body was relaxed completely, for once, his face tranquil. The Marine was at peace, if only for a little while, letting the pent up emotions flow out and swirl through the air with a certain kind of beauty. A lone tear slid down a pale cheek as the final notes melted away to silence. As the smoke user returned to himself, he felt the fire sitting near him, and gave him a soft, reassuring look. Ace smiled at him softly, his thumb smoothing the salty drop away before resting on his shoulder.

"Don't care what you're gonna say, I am getting you that flute," the pirate hummed. There was a surprised look on Smoker's face, and he made to protest. Ace wasn't going to have any of that, though. "La la la~! Not listening, I want you to have something that makes you happy, so I'm gonna go through with this. Lalalalalala~~!" Ace continued to chant in a sing-song tone of voice until the Marine sighed and relented in his protesting, a faint flush on his cheeks. The older man chuckled, giving Smoker a case for his newly acquired flute with a tiny shake of his head.

"I would have made you take it, anyway, young man. With what you've lived through, you need something to bring some calm into your life."

Smoker left the shop, Ace on his tail, carefully holding the case to his chest with a certain measure of protectiveness. This was something that was truly his and wanted... Something he cherished; a gift from a _pirate_. The smoke user sighed, giving up internally.

_'I just can't keep doing it... When I look at him, I don't see Fire Fist Ace, Second Devision Leader one of the Strongest pirate crew in the world, anymore...' _his mind seemed to lament. _'I see... a man. A __**friend, **__even. He's put up with __**everything **__I've thrown his way... The nightmares, the moodiness, the weakness, everything. He's polite most of the time, knows when too far is too far, and he hasn't judged me for a second since that night...' _His thoughts were distracted by a yank of his coat, and he looked at the source. Grinning brightly, the fire user tugged on his sleeve, pointing to a small restaurant that was almost empty from the lunch rush crowd's hasty escape.

"You hungry?" the fire user smiled, escorting him towards the entrance gently. Smoker let his eyes flick around nervously for a second before he nodded and let himself be dragged into the small restaurant. They chose a small, two person table near the door. The Marine was faintly surprised when the 'brat' settled for something light, legitimately light, to eat. Only one bowl of soup and another of what looked to be ice cream. Smoker rolled his eyes and settled for his own soup. There was light chatting as they ate, well, actually it was just the fire user somehow eating and talking without being misunderstood and his charge grunting noncommittally as he stared out the window.

"Oi, Smoker." A fire-tinted voice chirped. When the Marine turned his head to answer with a bored grimace, he was met with a spoon being held towards his face. A spoon of ice cream and a grinning freckled face. He quirked his brow, his eyes flicking from the spoon to the young man holding it. "C'mon, try it! This stuff it delicious, no joke!"

The Marine gave him an incredulous look. The fire user just continued to insist, going as far as to use the laden spoon to poke at his lips and give him an equally intense puppy-dog face. They were at an impasse for about a minute before Smoker let out an irate sigh. He parted his lips grudgingly, and the spoon was slid in.

The treat just about melted on his tongue, releasing its flavor as the spoon was removed. Smoker let his eyes slide closed, analyzing the taste for a second. There was a hint of something fruity and a touch of citrus, accenting the vanilla nicely. He enjoyed it silently, ignoring the contemplative humming from the youth sitting across from him. He swallowed calmly, opening his eyes and meeting the pirate's gaze.

"So?" Ace smirked. "How's it taste?"

"Good enough for me to do this," Smoker replied, using his own spoon to snag another dollop of the creamy sweet. He smirked around the spoon as he ate his prize, almost chuckling at the surprised look on the fire user's face before it settled into a mock pout.

"Hey..." Ace was met with a tiny grin and the smoke user sticking his tongue out for a second childishly. "Get your own ice cream, next time." After several more snipping incidents of his dessert, the fire user gave in and set the dish in the middle of the table, his own lips quirking up and the victorious smirk the other made. An actual conversation blossomed, Smoker commenting and adding to what the pirate said to him and asking questions of his own. It was pleasant, the Marine smiling and laughing easily for the rest of the small meal. Once the food was done and the check delivered, Ace actually _payed the bill_ and they left.

The fire user had a pleased grin on his face as they walked home, Smoker still cradling the flute carefully. The Marine quirked his brow, watching Ace with faint interest. The pirate was being oddly thoughtful and going much further out of his way then he was accustom to. Even with the months of care coming from an enemy, this was beyond odd. He was planning something, every fiber of his being knew it; the smoke user just wasn't sure what... And he wasn't sure why he didn't mind, either.


End file.
